The Tales of Storyteller Rick
by Nomia
Summary: Ridiculous little stories not to be taken seriously about our favorite group of kids, told through the eyes of their unofficial narrorator, Storyteller Rick.


A/N: Buaha, hello, foolish reader! This is your last chace to turn back because, quite honestly, this will be the stupidest story – if you can even call it a story – you will ever read in your life.

No? Alright then. I warned you.

In some semblence of an explanation I'll tell you this: this was written during a period of the most intense boredom where I had access to unlimited Dr. Pepper and Weird Al c.d.s. I began stirring though some of the mess in my room, found a cruddy old notebook with only a few dozen pages left in it, and just began writing whatever came to mind. Somewhere in all that jumble emerged the following phenomenon. Please – if there was ever a time to tell me I'm off my rocker, now is it.

If, however, upon the occasion I ignore these inevitable flames and cries for me to find help, I continue to update this rambling narration with even more little snippits, know it will be sporradically, as my Stupid Bone hits me at random, stupid times.

Now, without further ado, here it is.

* * *

**The Tales of Storyteller Rick: part one -- The Tale of Love-Ridden Notes in Concern to Health and Homework**

Why hello, young readers! What a pleasure it is to see your bright smiling faces! My name is Storyteller Rick, and I am the unofficial narrorator for the town of Retrovilee.

Now, before, we begin, I must tell you something: if there are any spelling errors, misrepresented facts, or grammatical travesties, please know that I am not to blame. They are the fault of my editor, a Miss Nomia-something or other, I can't remember. I'm not going to memorize a load of ridiculous names on the pay _I'm_ getting. And another thing, while we are being honest with each other; I'm not really all that thrilled to see your bright smiling faces. Hell, I can't see you at all! That's just not how a computer screen works. For all I know, you could be cantankerous, wrinkly old shrew, glaring at this with the intensity of one thousand burning white suns. I'm just reading what the big cards say.

So, getting back to those big cards… I an here today to tell you a story about one of the most speculated events in Retroville, the object of many people's interest for nih on five years, the most controversial topic one could think to bring up: the relationship between Cindy and Jimmy.

Huge deal, right? bet your glad you clicked on this link instead of something else, something stupid, like that "Shakespearian Lifestyle" story, or whatever it's called. The one by that "Nomia" chick.

Nomia… hey, that name rings a bell. Have I heard that somewhere? It's right there, on the tip of my tongue… ah, nope, it's gone.

Anyways, the card. Apparently you are supposed to know a lot about these two weirdo teens, and that they've loved each other for a long time.

You following this? Yes? Well good. That's half my work done. Now listen up, I don't don't want to have to repeat myself, and this is vital information I'm going to read off to you now.

Jimmy and Cindy are nearing the age of 16, that wonderful age of high school drama, embarrassing acne, and sneaky deception. "Oh, don't even deny it. you know you still take pride in the fact that you could lie to your parents in your teen years without them knowing. And those still in school: you concider it an art form, right? Yeah, I thought so.)

But despite these daunting elements that accompany their age, Cindy and Jimmy still manage to maintain a healthy and loving relationship with one another.

How did they even get into a relationship, you ask? How did something like that happen? Even though that is not the point of my story, I am going to tell you anyways.

It just did.

Don't expect me to give you anything more specific than that, because there is nothing. It just happened. There were no sudden proclomations of loce, no shocking public confessions, they didn't just show up at school one morning as "an official couple". No, the changes that brought about their relationship were subtle, simple everyday happenings. In fact, these unnoticed incidents were so subtle, classmates would see the pair walk by in the hall, laughing with their arms around each other, and wonder to themselves, "When the hell did _that_ happen?"

Oh, don't give me that "It would never happen that way, not between Jimmy and Cindy" crap, because it _did_ happen, just as I described it.

Really, it's not that hard to believe. After all, they were friends – no matter in how twisted of a way. As they grew and developed individually, they grew and developed together, as well. New-found maturity allowed them to remain in the same room together without causing mayham, give way for a deeper, mutual affection to blossom. Eventually, things just fell together.

All in all, despite being much less dramatic and emotionally satisfying to the hard-core passionist, this was probably better for everyone. Knowing Jimmy and Cindy, any heartfelt declarations of ill-diguised love would most likely go awry. Sooner or later, one would have been chasing the other down the street with a laser sword in hand, curiously amused ut entirely innocent watchers would sustain injusries, and the chance of the two getting together might have been thoroughly squashed. And if _that _were to happen, then I wouldn't have this story to tell. (Though I'm not certain how big a blow that would have been; no one will hire me again, after they learn I did a gig for fanfiction.)

Anyway… where was I? I sort of lost my place… I strayed away from reading the big cards, you see – oh, here we are. 'Introduce the fluffy, plotless anecdote about our star-crossed' – and slightly deranged – 'lovers.' Alright alright, I get it Mr. Teleprompter-holding-the-cards, I get it.

It all started on a gloomy Tuesday morning when Cindy arrived five minutes late to chemistry, looking somewhat off-colour. This did not go unnoticed by a concerned Jimmy and, being the sweethearted, love-sick fool he is, he sent her the following message scribbled onto a piece of notebook paper.

You look terrible. I something the matter?

I see clearly now how ridiculous it is for their relationship to have taken so long to come about. With charm and tact like that, Jimmy ought to have been able to snag her with one swift, romantic move.

For some reason or another, Cindy didn't take his conciderate intentions too lightly. With a scowl thrownhis way, she scribbled back a response, crumpled up the note, and threw it back at him. spreading it flat once more, Jimmy saw it read:

I woke up late, ran to school through the rain – which efficiently  
washed off all my make-up and set my hair into an even worse  
state, if that was even possible – and I arrive late to realize I left  
my calculus homework in your lab. Thanks for asking, Nerd-bomb.

Ahh, her loving, saccharine words could melt all that listened into puddles of goo.

Frowning down at the paper, Jimmy wrote back:

I have your homework – and I fixed problems 8-a through 12-b for you.  
And I didn't mean you looked ugly; that's impossible. I meant you  
looked ill. Are you feeling well? Healthy well?

Without fail, the mentioning of her beauty quelmed her anger. Her eyes flitted his way and she sucked on her lower lip – a sure sign of remorse. Jimmy sat back in his seat, thinking he had come out victorious. Although she was no longer looking his way, he gave her a tight-lipped smile as he waited for a reply.

Personally, I think the sap should hold out, wait for something more than a half-hearted glance, milk it for all it's worth… but apparently that's not his style. And apparently my opinion doesn't count, because Mr. Pushy-teleprompter-man is waving his hands at me, as if I were doing something horrible.

Back to the stupid story, for which I am getting paid close to _nothing_ to tell.

Thank you, Jimmy. You're such a doll.

Bleech, can't you just _choke_ on the sickly-sweetness? That "Shakespearian Play" crap is starting to sound like a better option, now.

When you brought my homework to school, did you happen to remember  
your _brain _as well? I'm thinking not, because you didn't CALL ME  
THIS MORNING like you were SUPPOSE TO.

Oh goody, so it does get better. Thank heavens.

Jimmy was shocked. Insulted, he scribbled back:

How would you know? You were sleeping late.

You're probably confused at this point. what are these star-crossed psychos doing, fighting like this? I just told you they had a flourishing. Healthy relationship! And it's true; they do… but onw must concider the many different ways that one can define "healthy". To some people, it simply means "happy". James Isaac Nuetron and Cynthis Aurora Vortex are, quite obviously, not among those many.

Different stroke for different folks, I guess, though I am loath to use that phrase; old people use it, and it makes absolutely no sense at all. How many people "stroke" these days, huh? And how many different ways _can_ you stroke, for that matter? I mean, the options aren't infinite!

Ridiculous sayings aside, Cindy and Jimmy did in fact have a very wonderful bond with one another, no matter how idisyncratic. Therefore, it was with complete, full-hearted adoration that Cindy wadded up the piece of paper and trew it at Jimmy's over-sized head, scoring a direct hit to his left eye.

Ms. Crabtree, their chemistry teach, did not understand the complex workings of their special, loving bond and thought the thrown ball of paper was intended to be a deliberate encroachment on her class, and undermining of her authority.

To her I say pooh-pooh. As if your hormonal teenage students were listening to you and giving you such power in the first place. Maybe if they could see a human face under all those wrinkles, or if you didn't have so many hidious moles, or if your montone voice didn't sound like a car being keyed, they might not be so distracted and might actually – oh, I don't know, I'm going off on a whim here – _learn_ something.

No such luck, though.

"Out!" she screeched, her very short temper snapping. She was practically bouncing with rage, making the three inches of slip showing beneath the hem of her excurciatingly ugly dress all the more obvious. "Out! out of my classroom! I've had more than enough of you two!"

she pointed a withered finger in the direction of the door, just in case they had forgotten its location since using it to enter the classroom ten minutes previous. (Don't think it was out of concideration for their poor memories, though. She was VERY upset at having her non-existant power overtaken.)

Peturbed, Cindy and Jimmy shared a look. The former asked, "Where do you want us to go?"

"Out!" Ms. Crabtree repeated, most likely thinking they really did have atrocious memories and had already forgotten her instructions. "I want you out! Go jump off a cliff, maybe, I don't care, as long as you are OUT!"

Beginning to think their teacher was upset with them and would like very much for them to leave the classroom, the pair gathered up their things and made for the door – which they found easily, thanks to the help of the fuming and still pointing Ms. Crabtree – Jimmy tossing the wadder paper, the originating cause of trouble, into a wastepaper basket as he passed.

Once the couple crossed the treshhold, slipping into the deserted hallway and gently closing the door behind them, blocking out the sniggers from their classmates, they realized they had not been given legitimate instructions past "out". sincere ones, I'm sure, because who wouldn't want them to jump off a cliff? It would give everyone's ears a rest from their fighting and everyone's eyes a rest from Nomia-shosit's bad stories, because without an obnoxious, squabbling couple, who's she gonna write about?

Truthful, yes, but legitimat? Unfortunately no.

So, with nothing better to do for the remaining 43 minutes in their first class of the day, they sat down on the cold linolium floor, backs pressed against the wall and belongings dumped at their feet. Despite one of them being a registered genius, neither of them thought to sit apart from the other, and since they had decided a moment before to be angry, they were dertiminedly not speaking or looking at each other. This was a particularly difficult thing to do when one took into account that their shoulders were almost touching. Somehow, though, the nincompoops managed.

One minute passed in silence. Then andother. And another. It was broken only when Cindy sneezed and, upon impulse, Jimmy said "Bless you". He reprimanded himself for doing so immeadiately and went back to being angry, this time twice as much, to make up for his ridiculous little slip.

No, you might think this was a stupid thing for him to do. I mean, if they were so upset with each other, wouldn't the logical thing to do be to just move? Go sit at opposite ends of the hall? They had the space to do so; why not? The answer is "because". Because they were too stubborn. Because they thought at any second, the other was going to do just that and they could save themselves the effort. Because they loved each other deeply, and when they were going to call themselves a couple, by God, they were going to do things _together!_

I mean, isn't that the age-old response to the "What are we going to do on our date" question? "I don't care; as long as we are together, I'm happy"?

Well, when Jimmy Nuetron and Cindy Vortex, friends for six years and a couple for – well no on quite knows, because it happened all so subtley. We talked about this, right? because I really don't want to have to go back and find that big card to read again… Anyways, when Jimmy Nuetron and Cindy Vortex decide to sulk, they sulk in each other's close presence.

Well, it was only another minute after Cindy sneezed – certainly not enough time to get back into the swing of sulking – when Jimmy rememberedsomething. Reaching down for his backpack, he unzipped it and pulled out a tattered tree-ring binder. Pulling a sheet of paper from within and handing it to the silent, half-sulky blonde sitting beside him, he said, "Here's your calculous homework."

What a delema. Either continue to be silent and bitter and refuse to take it in principle of the situation, therefore receiving an incomplete on her math grade, or take the proffered assignment – pre-graded and fixed by a genius – and give in to submission, giving up the half-assed sulk and being forced to kiss the boy that was doing the proffering. A lose-lose situation, where no option is desired but the choice must be made.

For this choice, the latter was picked, the though of lowering her math grade because of her idiot boyfriend just too much for Cindy to tolerate. So reluctantly, she took the paper from his hand, grimacing as she said through gritted teeth, "Thanks."

Just as she expected, when she said this, the rest of her desire to sulk betrayed her, leaving her rather plaicd and almost – heaven forbid – _happy._ And damn it all if as soon as she started feeling that way, so did Jimmy. He smiled at her lightly, not saying anything. Just smiling, just staring.

And leaning. Leaning towards her expectantly.

_Well,_ she thought, though how Mr. Know-it-all-teleprompter knows that's what she thought, because she only thought it, never said it, _if Nuetron's going to be weak, I guess I can humor him, play along._

Yeaaah, you play along, Cindy. You play along with that crazy tongue of yours.

And thus ends another day in the life of Jimmy and Cindy, two crazy high school sweethearts with a peculiar tendency to get kicked out of classes. (Just gives 'em time for good make-out practice, right?)

This is Storyteller Rick – oh, as well as Mr. Furious-looking-card-holder-guy – signing off with a cheerful "Until next time."


End file.
